


Love Always, Santa

by Swlfangirl



Series: The Derek is Santa Series [1]
Category: Hallmark Christmas Movies - Fandom, Minor Supernatural References, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek is a Good Boyfriend, Derek is a Good Friend, Derek/Erica brotp, Like father like son, M/M, Minor Character Death (offscreen), Multi, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Single!Dad Stiles, Snarky!Sherriff, TimeStamps to be added later, Widowed!Stiles, snarky!Stiles, sort of unfinished?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 03:33:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12998949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swlfangirl/pseuds/Swlfangirl
Summary: Lily's Christmas wish is for her dad to be happy again, when she realizes it's something she can't do on her own, she writes a letter to Santa. Much to her disappointment it doesn't work out as planned, but then somehow, it works out even better.





	Love Always, Santa

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving/gifts).



“Lil, Don’t forget your backpack!” Stiles calls up the stairs, triple checking his carryon to make sure he has the perfect combination of stuff that will get both him and Lil through for a day or two in case their other bags don’t make the trip with them, he’s learned that lesson the hard way.

 

“C’mon kiddo we can’t miss our flight,” Stiles says, as he hears her little feet clomping down the stairs. He still can’t believe she’s seven years old, it seems like so much time has passed so quickly, he still gets a bit dizzy sometimes.

 

“Ready!” she calls back, her pretty blonde curls dancing behind her as she rushes toward him.

 

“Aht at, I don’t think so, lil miss. I know we’re in a hurry but you need your jacket and gloves and hat before you even think about stepping outside,” Stiles says, reaching into the tiny closet by the door of their condo. “I know it’s warm in California but New York in November _isn’t_. Besides, I don’t want to have to deal with you being all whiny and grumpy during the trip when you catch a cold.”

 

“Daaaad.”

 

“Yup, just like that,” Stiles answers, pulling his own jacket over his favorite red hoodie, tucking it tightly around him and zipping it up.

 

He shoves his way through the door, carrying his duffel on one shoulder and Liliwen’s backpack on the other. Their other two large suitcases are propped against the door as he watches, what he hopes is the cab he called for, turn onto their street.

 

Thankfully, the cab stops in front of the condo and Stiles breathes out a sigh of relief.

 

He hops out to help immediately, which surprises Stiles. He’s gotta be at least his dad’s age, probably older, but he moves quickly. He’s got bronze skin and a long grey beard, and a smile brighter than most.

 

“Here, let me help you with those,” the guy says.

 

“I got it, but thanks man.” Stiles says, images of the guy to pull something while carrying their bags fluttering through his mind. He turns to his little girl and nods toward the sidewalk. “Lil, wait right here while I get the rest of our stuff.”

 

Stiles heads back toward the door, making sure to lock it up tight before gathering up the last of their things. “How much does one seven year old girl need for a couple weeks in Cali?”

 

“Whatever, most of that stuff is yours, dad.  Aunt Lydia taught _me_ how to pack.”

 

Stiles grumbles under his breath that he wouldn’t have brought so much if the same Lydia didn’t disapprove of literally everything he wore, or at least anything he _enjoyed_ wearing. He gets the bags put into the trunk of the cab as quick as he can and ushers his daughter inside.

 

“Buckle up, Lil.”

 

“To JFK right? You off to spend Thanksgiving with your family?” The cabbie asks, waiting patiently for Lily to get her seatbelt on before carefully pulling back onto the road.

 

“Yeah, something like that.”

 

Stiles swallows as the thought of being back in Beacon Hills washes over him.

 

He’s been avoiding it for a few years now, the memories of their life together haunt him so much more when he’s there.

 

_The park where they played as kids._

 

_The coffee shop where she got her first job and snuck him slightly stale muffins when he was a starving college student._

 

_The bench in front of the town square where he quietly proposed and she lit up brighter than a Christmas tree._

 

_The small house they bought together and spent every weekend for the next year slowly fixing it up._

 

Beacon Hills is nothing but a ghost town for him now, it feels cold and empty without her there.

 

He knows it isn’t fair to the people he loves, to the rest of his family but it’s still true. Four years hasn’t been enough time to settle his restless ghosts, he doesn’t know if he ever will.

 

 _But_ with Kira’s due date so close she can’t fly, which means Scott and Melissa won’t either. So, his dad gave him one hell of a guilt trip about the time he’s spent away and now Stiles is sitting in a taxi on his way to the airport, trying desperately not to have a panic attack and scare his kid.

 

_Good Times._

* * *

 

Derek stares at the blinking cursor, his mind taking him somewhere else entirely, like it always does.

 

He should probably just give up, he knows that. It’s just that writing is his passion. Even now when he can’t seem to string more than one coherent paragraph together, it fills him up with warmth and frustration and a million other things. He’s never felt that way about anything or anyone else, not even _her._

 

He opens the document and blinks a few times, then suddenly he’s pulled back to her, back to what she did, and how he had nearly lost everything.

 

Damn her! Damn her for taking this from him. Though he he’d rather lose his writing than his family. So instead of smashing his computer or beating his fists against the table, he tries to be grateful for what he has left.

 

He pushes back from the desk and scrubs a hand over his face.

 

It’s just a waste of time at this point so he stands up, grabs his coat, and heads toward the preserve. If he can’t write, then at least he’ll have something to take his mind off of it with a houseful of pack.

“Unca Derrrk!” squeals come at him as soon as he opens the door, but he just smiles. He picks the twins up, one in each arm and twirls them around.

 

“It’s my favorite niece and nephew!” he says, chuckling as they giggle through his spins. Lexie and Bash never fail to make everything feel lighter and brighter. When Derek finally sits them back down, even he is a bit dizzy. They stumble a bit but their quick reflexes keep them upright easily enough.

 

Derek leans in and whispers conspiratorially, “Who knows where they’re hiding the cookies?”

 

“I do!” Lexie says, bouncing on her tippy toes.

 

“Let’s go steal some,” he whispers, grinning wide at the toddlers.

 

He stealthily sneaks toward the kitchen, the kids following closely behind, mimicking his cartoon villianesque approach.

 

Just before he reaches the archway into the open kitchen where he can hear Laura and his mom talking, Derek turns back to them and puts a finger to his lips. They giggle loud enough that he knows they aren’t fooling anyone, but he doesn’t really care.

 

He inches forward, nearing the counter where Talia keeps the cookie jar, reaching out for as Laura’s head snaps around so quickly he can hear her neck pop. “Oh I don’t think so. You are _not_ getting them hyped up on sugar and taking off again Der.”

 

“Who me?” He says, pathetically fake.

 

“I’m serious, Derek. They’re all angelic and innocent when you get here and screaming demons after you’re gone,” Laura answers, turning to pull him into a hug.

 

He accepts it gladly, chuckling at her. He shrugs toward the kids, making a dramatic show of it as he says, “Oh no, I guess we got caught guys...no cookies for us.”

 

He subtly winks at them when Laura turns back to focus on her work, this time actually trying to go unnoticed as he gently lifts the lid off the ceramic jar and pulls out a handful of his mother’s delicious triple chocolate chip cookies.

 

He passes one to each of the twins behind his back. They cackle and take off running. Laura glares at him but he just shrugs it off, smugly biting into a cookie of his own.

 

“Don’t worry, I was actually thinking about sticking around tonight, staying here. The loft is just…” he pauses, unable to cut Laura off before she pipes up with a sarcastic comment.

 

“A depressing hole of self loathing and misery?”

 

Derek tosses a piece of his cookie at her face, albeit  a small one, not wanting to give up too much of it. There’s a glint of humor in his mom’s eyes so he doesn’t feel too awful about the waste.

 

“You know you’re welcome here anytime, Derek.” Talia says, pulling him into a hug once his hands are free. His mom’s embrace always comforts him, no matter the issue. Whether it’s because she’s his Alpha or his mom, he’s not sure but it relaxes him regardless.

 

“I know, mom. Thanks.”

 

“Oh hey, while I’m thinking about it. Jordan wants to know if you can cover his shift on Wednesday. We thought we’d do a quiet dinner at the house since he’s working Thanksgiving Day for the Sheriff.”

 

Derek scrunches up his face in surprise. He doesn’t mind working the shift, they don’t ask that much of him really, but it’s a bit of a shock considering the sheriff has worked pretty much every holiday except for Christmas for the last half a decade.

 

“Something wrong? John doesn’t usually take off until Christmas,” he asks, hoping there isn’t. The sheriff is a good man, one of the best he’s ever met if he’s honest.

 

“Nah, turns out his kid is coming home for a couple weeks so John’s taking Thursday off.”

 

“Really? What’s it been...Four years? Five?” Derek says, feeling a little angry on behalf of the sheriff. He doesn’t understand how someone can distance themselves so much from the people who care most about them. Maybe that’s colored by his experiences but Derek will _never_ take his family for granted again.

 

“Why now?” he asks, reaching into the fridge to grab the milk, pouring himself a couple drinks to wash down the last of his cookies.

 

“Derek,” his mom said, and it sounded like a scolding. “Show some compassion. I raised you better than that. You don’t judge a situation you know nothing about.”

 

He feels about two inches tall at that, though part of him is still defensive on the sheriff’s behalf.

 

“Sorry,’ he says, as his mom looks at him coldly. She could probably hear his heartbeat skip over the word. “No I am, I just...I know how much it bothers John, how much it hurts that his family is literally on the other side of the country.”

 

“You have a big heart, Derek. I’ve always thought you take after your father that way. But maybe you should think about sharing all that loyalty and protectiveness you feel for him with his son and granddaughter, don’t you?” she asks in a way that leaves no room for a response before starting up again. “Even more so this time of year.”

 

Derek groans a bit, feeling as if he’s regresses into his teenage angst phase anytime he spends more than five minutes in his childhood home. “Yes, ma’am.”

 

“Just try your best to be understanding. That’s all I’m asking, sweetheart.”

 

“Yeah, mom. I’ll try,” he answers, escaping the warmth of the kitchen in favor of chasing down a couple rugrats to play with. 

* * *

 

 

“Stiles, you know it’s okay to move on…” Scott starts, hating himself a little for saying it.  He can’t imagine how hard it’s been on his best friend. Losing Heather wasn’t easy for him either, though he wasn’t head over heels in love with her, didn’t have a child with her, couldn’t even think about it being Kira instead without losing control.

 

_But he knew Heather too._

 

_She was his best friend too._

 

_And he knows that she wouldn’t want this for Stiles._

 

“Yeah…” Stiles says with a nod, though Scott can hear the slight hitch in his breath and the wrenching break in his voice. “I get that I’m allowed to move on, Scott. That’s not the problem. I just, _I can’t._ Believe me, I’ve tried.”

 

He scrubs the pot a little harder than he should as he tries to figure out how to say what’s on his mind. It’s easy to see that Scott’s trying to help. The guy’s basically just a giant puppy who hates seeing anyone sad, especially him, he knows that. Hell, it’s part of the reason he left in the first place, not that he’d ever admit it.

 

Still, it takes him a few beats to find the words. But once he does, it feels like they’re not gonna stop. “It’s like a puzzle- No hear me out. Heather and I, we fit...we fit so well and for so long that our edges brushed together seamlessly. You could stare at the puzzle up close and it still looked like a painting, no jagged edges or marks to see that it wasn’t a whole.”

 

“When I lost her-,” Stiles has to swallow back the tears but he does it, used to having to hide it all inside himself . “Without her, the picture is broken and I’ve not found anything else that came close to fitting.”

 

“Stiles maybe if you just tried-”

 

Stiles raises his voice unintentionally, it’s just he’s heard the same lines over and over and they still hit him with a powerful punch. “Not so much as a spark, Scott. _Nothing_ in four years. There are days when I still feel like I can’t breathe without her.”

 

“If it wasn’t for Lily, I’m not sure I would.”

 

Scott sighs, pulling Stiles against him and squeezing tight.

 

“I’m sorry, man...she didn’t make it easy did she? Setting the bar so high,” Scott says, smiling fondly as he thinks back on how much Heather seemed to light up around Stiles causing him to do the same.

 

They were as right for one another as he thought people could be.

 

Lily watches them quietly from the living room, frowning at the way her dad’s eyes get big and sad. It’s been that way pretty much the entire trip. She knows that being back in California reminds him of her mom and makes him sad, but she doesn’t know how to make it good again.

 

She’s seen it a few times in New York but not like it is here, not _all the time._

 

It’s still a little early but Lily knows she’s gonna need some help so she’s calling in the big guns.

 

“Dad, do you have a pen or marker I can use? I’m gonna write my letter to Santa.”

 

“Already? Lil it’s not even December yet.”

 

“Well duh, I don’t wanna be stuck at the bottom of the pile,” she says, rolling her eyes at him. He laughs a little and it makes her feel better until he hands her the pencil and she sees that look again, but like he’s trying to hide it.

 

“Make sure you ask for somethin’ big. Somethin your dad can play with too, how bout an xbox?”

 

She knows he’s teasing but she shakes her head at him. “No, this year I’m asking for something special. It’s a secret.”

 

“Well okay, then.”

 

Lily runs upstairs, charging through the door to what used to be her dad’s room. She digs out some paper from her backpack and starts to write.

 

**_Dear Santa,_ **

 

**_This will be the fourth Christmas without my mommy and the first one that will be just me and Dad._ **

 

**_I don’t think he wants to come back to California for Christmas._ **

 

**_I don’t even think he’d stay for Thanksgiving if my aunt Kira wasn’t going to have a baby._ **

 

**_The dad I have now, isn’t the daddy I remember from when mommy was still alive. He tries, he does good but he’s not just not the same. I don’t think he knows that I see how sad he is, but I do._ **

 

**_He went on a date once, a while ago, with the man who lives in the apartment over the cafe. Later that night, I heard him crying in the shower._ **

 

**_Don’t tell him, but I cried a little bit too._ **

 

**_At the beginning of my favorite book, The Christmas Bow, Annabelle loses her leg and doesn’t think she will ever walk again._ **

 

**_I think that’s what it’s like for my dad._ **

 

**_He doesn’t believe he’ll ever find love again._ **

 

**_I’m not asking for anything else this year. I don’t want anything else. I just want him to smile again, like really smile. The way he did with mommy. I want him to have someone to hold and kiss even when I say it’s gross._ **

 

**_So, if you could Santa. My Christmas wish is for my dad to get a girlfriend or a boyfriend or a g-gender-_ **

 

 

“Dadd! How do you spell neutral?” Lily calls out down the stairs, impatiently waiting for her answer.

 

“N-e-u-t-r-a-l.”

 

“K, thanks!”

 

**_gender neutral friend._ **

 

**_He’s not picky._ **

 

**_I just want him to be happy again and I don’t think I can do it by myself, even though I’m gonna try._ **

 

**_He probably needs all the help he can get._ **

 

**_You’ve never let me down before Santa and now my dad needs you more than I ever have._ **

 

**_Bring back his spark._ **

 

**_Love Always, Liliwen Stilinski._ **

 

**_P.S. You can call me Lily_ **

* * *

 

 

Derek stands up from Jordan’s desk and pops his neck. It’s been a slow day, most in Beacon Hills are fairly easy, but he doesn’t mind going in anyway. He’s more of a consultant than an actual deputy, though John has told him more than once that if he’d ‘ _just take the damn test already, Derek.’_ he’d be hired on in a flash.

 

But he doesn’t think that’s what he wants. It might be practical given the steady decline in his writing career, which is probably why John’s offered it to him so many times, but it’s not where his heart is at and he doesn’t need the money.

 

He likes helping people, likes keeping an eye out on the town, on Hale territory, but he’d much rather curl up with a good book at the loft than be subjected to the general public.

 

Tara is sitting at the front desk when he’s about to leave and Derek gives her a small smile. She’s one of the few people in the station that he likes. Well John and Jordan, for obvious reasons. Parrish is a likable guy no matter how many points he lost for marrying his terror of a sister.

 

He’s about to say goodbye when her eyes widen in surprise, “Oh hey, Derek… while you’re here. I was going to call but Jordan said you were coming in today. There’s a few letters in the Santa Inc. box.”

 

His eyebrows raise as he turns back to her, “Already?”

 

“Yeah, I think they wanted to beat the rush,” she says, chuckling softly before turning back to the computer.

 

Derek walks back through the side door and steps into the lobby where the bright red mailbox is waiting for him. He pulls the keys from his pocket and picks out the small silver notched one. He listens for heartbeats, not wanting any of the local kids, or anyone really, to come in and catch him opening it.

 

Thankfully he’s able to pull out the stack of envelopes and papers, straightening them into a manageable pile, and get them into his car without anyone being the wiser.

 

It’s been a tradition in his family for as long as he can remember. He faintly recalls a story his mom told him about it starting around the great depression, but he isn’t sure. Derek’s been responding to the letters since they lost his father when he was barely eighteen.

 

He doesn’t reply to all of them, they never have. But for the rare ones that make him laugh or smile, Derek crafts a careful response. It’s the closest thing to _actual writing_ he’s managed in years.

 

He chuckles to himself and rolls his eyes when the air outside the loft hints of Erica’s floral, feminine scent. He rides up in the elevator, teasing her under his breath, “You know I could literally arrest you for breaking and entering.”

 

“Oh please, like I’d bother with _breaking_ anything. I have a key.”

 

Some mix of a sigh and a laugh escapes him and Derek has to just shake his head.

 

“Why are you here, Erica?” he asks, a teasing tone to his voice. He loves the beta, she’s actually one of his favorite people. But she’s still learning how to calm the power trip that comes with her newfound genetic upgrades and he doesn’t need to give her that kind of ego boost.

 

“What? I can’t come see my favorite client-slash-friend?’ Erica asks, not nearly as innocently as she might think.

 

“No.”

 

“Derrr, come on!! I want to represent you, but in order for me to _do_ that you’d have to _actually write something.”_

 

Erica isn’t one to pull punches and Derek’s surprised she let him stay in stasis this long, not that she hasn’t tried before.

 

“Look, I understand that it’s not easy, but you have to push yourself Derek. You can’t just shut yourself off from the world and wallow.”

 

“Sure, just let me ask you a quick question first. Has _your_ psychotic ex girlfriend burned your house to the ground trying to kill everyone you loved, lately? Cause if the answer to that is no...I don’t see how you could possibly understand the situation,” Derek bites back, these meetings always leave him feeling attacked.

 

Thankfully, she doesn’t do it too often.

 

“Der, you’re too talented to waste it with the Santa bs.”

 

“Hey, don’t talk about it like that!” Derek’s voice eerily unsettling, even to his own ears.

 

“I didn’t mean that, I know you love it and that it does a lot of good, actually your dad wrote me a letter back once when I was little. I think my mom still has it framed somewhere. But that’s not the point, Derek. The point is you need to follow your passion further than to the little red box inside the sheriff’s station.”

 

She smiles sadly at him, shifting her body against his and pulling his hands up to her hips as she half forces him into a hug. Derek hugs her back because it feels good, because she smells like lavender and leather, like pack and home. He’s missed her, even though she’s only been gone with Boyd and the kids for a few days visiting his grandmother in Florida.

 

“You _need_ writing in your life. It’s not just me, the whole pack is worried. We can’t stand watching you waste away like this.”

 

“I’ll try,” he says, his body relaxing in against hers. “Really, I promise to try.”

 

Eventually he kicks her out and curls up on the couch in front of the fireplace. It doesn’t give off much heat but it works well because there’s just enough of a chill outside to make it uncomfortably cool to his warm skin.

 

He reads through a few of the letters, rolling his eyes at how spoiled some of the little brats are, but he finds a couple that make him grin. One little boy who wants a doll like his sister’s after promising to share his batman toys with her. Another one where all three kids joined together for one letter because their mom told them it was bad to waste paper. It was really cute, though the youngest could do little more than make a few scribbles where his name should be.

 

He sits those aside, reaching for the old tablet of paper they’d used for as long as they’d written letters from Santa. When he reaches for it, something plops onto the floor and he sees that he’s missed a letter. He picks it up from the floor, smiling at the bubble letters across the front.

 

Derek reads through the letter, his vision blurring as he gets to the end.

 

He hates himself a little for how he’d felt toward the sheriff’s son just a few days ago. His mom was right to be angry with him over what he’d said. John would know better than anyone what it’s like to lose your wife at such a young age, and Derek’s sure that he understands how his son feels about it.

 

He wipes at his cheek and takes the familiar quill into his grip and starts to write, the words flooding out of him faster than usual. He just, he’s compelled to do whatever small thing he can to reassure Lily, and maybe her dad too. He won’t promise anything like a boyfriend or girlfriend, but part of him hopes beyond reason, that there’s something he can do for them with his words.

 

**_My Dearest Lily,_ **

 

**_People wonder how I can live at the North Pole where it’s cold, dark, and empty outside. But the truth is that no matter how lonely it can be sometimes, I’m never more than a few kind words or a warm cup of cocoa away from feeling the Christmas spirit._ **

 

**_Once happiness fills a space, whether it’s a small grin or a jolly laugh; the darkness starts to fade. Sometimes it’s only a little, others a lot, but with an awesome little girl like you I’m sure you’re dad’s world bright and full of warmth._ **

 

**_Love is all kinds of different things._ **

 

**_Like the way your dad loves you or the way you love your favorite toy or book. It can sometimes be the simplest things that bring us the most joy. But most of all, I think, love can be just as sudden, just as sweet and warm as a cup of hot chocolate._ **

 

**_Losing someone you care about is a pain unlike anything else we experience as human beings. It hurts in a way that no other pain hurts. Emotional wounds, no matter how thin or deep, can bring about changes in us that we don’t even notice ourselves._ **

 

**_You know how when you fall down and you scrape your knee. Well we know that your dad kissing it doesn’t actually heal the scrape. Your skin is still torn and you’ll probably still need a bandaid but it makes you feel better anyway, right?_ **

 

**_Emotional comfort comes in different forms and it’s not always about filling the hole that’s left by the ones we’ve lost. I bet knowing how much you care about him and how you’re trying so hard to make him happy, will be like kissing his heart better. It might not heal the wound, but I’m sure your dad will be happy to hear that you’re in this together._ **

 

**_Nothing and no one can replace your mom, not for you or him. But maybe we can find some words that well help your dad see that it’s not as dark, or cold, or lonely out there as it might seem._ **

 

**_Love Always,_ **

**_Santa_ **

* * *

 

 

Lily runs to the mailbox as soon as her papaw pulls into the driveway after leaving Melissa’s house. The flag is up and she knows what that means now. She’s been waiting two whole days for a letter back. Both her dad and papaw told her not to get her hopes up, but she knew that Santa wouldn’t let her down.

 

Not with something so important.

 

She squeals excitedly when she sees the beige envelope with her name written across the top, as pretty as she’s ever seen it. She runs upstairs and gently opens the edges of the envelope, not wanting to tear through the pretty writing, and eagerly starts to read it.  

 

Frowning, Lily guesses that maybe it was kind of a big ask for Santa to bring her a whole person for her dad, though it doesn’t make it any less disappointing to read. She was really been hoping that if she tried hard enough, that she could make her dad happy again. That he would light up the way he did sometimes when he talked about mommy, before his face dropped and he got all sad again.

 

She looks up, gently wiping at her eyes and her dad is staring back at her with a serious look on his face. “What’s wrong, Lilypad?”

 

“I was thinkin, about the wishing tree...and how we don’t go anymore.”

 

Her looks back at her apologetically, but she doesn’t wait for him to talk.

 

“It was always the best part. You, me, and Mom going out there and sitting under the stars...it always felt like magic.”

 

“I guess, I’ve been afraid Lil. Being here without your mom is really hard for me but more than that, I don’t want to disappoint you.’

 

“I know you don’t like to talk about her with other grownups like papaw or Uncle Scott...or Santa.”

 

“Wait, what? I’m confused.”

 

“I’m sorry- I just, I was hoping he could help…Promise you won’t be mad? I thought he could make it where you aren’t so sad all the time.”

 

“Oh, Lil.” He pulls her into a hug before she can even stand up or show him the letter from Santa. He squeezes her tight and she feels a little less guilty and thinks maybe that’s what Santa was talking about.

 

“Here, I think he wants you to read this,’ she says, before sliding the envelope over to him and going back downstairs.

 

Stiles takes a deep breath as his eyes are naturally drawn to the fancy script practically dancing across the page. He feels a something in his chest that he mistakes for panic for a moment before it settles into something resembling affection. It’s been so long since anyone, stranger or not, has brought such a visceral reaction out of him.

 

Stiles doesn’t realize it until after he’s finished, but his cheeks are wet with tears and there’s a yearning inside him to respond. To tell this _Santa_ , whoever he is, just how much his words have impacted him and Lily too.

 

It takes him a few tries but eventually he has something worth sending.

 

He doesn’t realize how late it’s gotten until he finds Lily already in bed, asleep. His stomach growls and when he gets to the kitchen there’s an empty bowl of her leftovers still sitting on the table.

 

He starts cleaning up after her, a force of habit, until his dad comes in, stops him, sits him down at the table, and starts assembling a sandwich. “Eat first, you have to take care of yourself, kiddo.”

 

“I know, dad. I’m sorry...just a little distracted.”

 

“Oh, speaking of which, can you drop this off for me when you go to work tomorrow? It’s kind of important or I wouldn’t ask.”

 

“Don’t you think you’re a little old for letters to Santa, Stiles?” his dad teases, quirking an eyebrow back at him.

 

“No it’s not like that…” he starts, though he’s not really sure what he should say next. He doesn’t keep many secrets from his dad but it feels private, personal almost. Not to mention that Heather is still very much a sensitive topic for him, like Lily said, and he knows his dad still struggles to talk about his mom too. Stiles doesn’t want to dig at old scars.

 

“Lily wrote a letter and stuck it in the box and whoever’s writing back this year went above and beyond. I just wanted to say thanks I guess,” Stiles says, rubbing nervously against the nape of his neck.

 

“Alright,” his dad says, though Stiles gets the feeling that isn’t all there is to it.

* * *

 

 

“Did you write a four page letter addressed to _Lily’s dad_?” Erica asks, staring up at him with that smug smirk that makes every hair on his body stand at attention.

 

Derek feels his entire body flush but it’s probably most prominently shown in the tips of his ears because Erica squeals and filcks them. “Oh my God you did!”

 

“What are you even doing here? and stay out of the Santa stuff. The last thing anyone needs is you writing letters to little kids.”

 

Erica ignores him, much like she always does and just waves the open letter in front of his face. “Musta been pretty steamy, because lover boy wrote you back. Says you’ve got him _sprung_.”

 

“He did not-”

 

“Maybe not exactly,” Erica concedes, but then quickly snatches the letter away before Derek can grab for it. He doesn’t try too hard, not wanting to tear it. “Buuut ‘your words _lit up the spark inside him for the first time in a long time_ ’ which I think, is pretty much the same thing.”

 

“I’m changing the locks,” Derek says, though he knows it's an empty threat. Despite her love of embarrassing the fuck out of him, she really is still one of his favorite people.

 

“Okay, okay..I’ll leave you alone with lover boy but...Der, and I mean this in the most sincere way; Get out there and get laid or something. Find a real connection even if it’s only temporary. This kind of relationship isn’t good for your health.”

 

He doesn’t say anything in response because she’s already handed him the letter and that takes up so much of his attention that he only waves her off and starts to read.

 

**_Dear Santa,_ **

 

**_Man I really hope you’re the same person, otherwise this is going to be really embarrassing. Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you for all the effort, and time, so much time that must have gone into the response for my daughter. We were both moved to tears by your words and while I’m not very good at stuff like this, I felt it only fair that in turn you receive something as warm and heartfelt as what you sent._ **

 

**_That is the true spirit of Christmas, isn’t it?_ **

 

**_The last few years of my life have been hard. Though they’ve been some of my most defining moments I guess. It felt like overnight I morphed from a twenty four year old full time student, part time graphics designer, to a widowed single father completely and solely responsible for another human being._ **

 

**_Lily is by far the best thing that has ever happened to me. Though Heather, my wife, was a close second. She was my first friend, my best friend, my first and only love. She filled in all my blank spaces and made me feel like I was worth something for a little while. She was my light and without her here, sometimes it does start to feel like the world is a big black hole._ **

 

**_Fortunately I still have Lily, and now your words, to remind me that it isn’t._ **

 

**_Thanks again,_ **

**_Lily’s Dad_ **

 

He realizes once he’s finished that letter that there’s two more in the small pile with the same handwriting and it takes everything inside him not to tear into them right away. Instead he forces himself to wait, heading into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee and microwave some leftover chinese from the night before.

 

When he’s finished eating, Derek settles in front of the fireplace, a warm mug in his hand and opens the second letter, smiling throughout. The guy is funny, he rambles a bit but Derek doesn’t care.

 

Then comes the third.

 

**_Dear Santa,_ **

 

**_It’s really hard being back in Beacon Hills._ **

 

**_It’s like everywhere I turn there’s a memory and for a single moment, it’s wonderful. I can feel Heather’s hand in mine, hear her laugh, feel her lips. It makes me come alive again._ **

 

**_But then the happiness fades and I remember that there won’t be any more memories with her. We won’t race through that alley beside the bakery, won’t skip rocks across the pond by the preserve, no more kisses or laughs._ **

 

**_Then comes the doubt._ **

 

**_I start to wonder if that sound I’m hearing is really her laugh or if it’s just as close as I can remember? Was it her that saved me from drowning out in the preserve when we were six or was it Scott? I’ve told the story so many times and it’s always been her, but then my mind starts picturing it differently. Instead of blonde hair and pale skin, it’s tanned lithe muscle and dark hair._ **

 

**_I told her that story when we reconnected after a year or two of going to different schools._ **

 

**_She didn’t remember._ **

 

**_Maybe I’ve had it wrong all these years, maybe it wasn’t her that saved me, you know? It doesn’t take away from how much I loved her, I know that, but it feels as if I’m losing a significant part of our relationship and what if it’s just the first of many? It’s only been four years. What if after ten I can’t even remember her smile, her laugh, her voice?_ **

 

**_What will I have then?_ **

 

**_It feels as if I’m trapped in perpetual agony._ **

 

**_Sorry I’m such a mess,_ **

**_Lily’s dad._ **

 

Derek wipes at his eyes, this guy practically laid his soul out bare and is waiting for some kind of response. He’s so brave, it couldn’t have been easy to share that, not even with a stranger. He has to be so strong to have survived what he’s gone through and still try so hard to give his daughter the best life he can.  

 

He picks up the quill and writes. He writes and he keeps writing and before he knows what’s happened he’s got eight pages, which is double what he sent last time.

 

Derek isn’t stupid, he knows if anyone finds out about this it’s going to be one of the most embarrassing things he’s ever had happen, but he also can’t ignore something filled with so much sincerity and heart.

 

There’s just something about Lily’s dad that makes flutters erupt in his stomach. He doesn’t know the sheriff’s son, doesn’t know his name, isn't even sure what he looks like. But Derek’s really starting to think it doesn’t matter, he’s falling in deeper with every line.

* * *

 

 

Stiles smiles when he sees the now familiar beige envelope with _Lily’s Dad_ beautifully scripted across the front. He can’t believe he’s really doing this, spending so much of his vacation, his time, engaging with a stranger.

 

It’s gotten a little out of hand, he knows. It started with a letter every day or two, and now Stiles is writing sometimes three and four a day, receiving one long winded, carefully crafted response. But no matter what, he now has faith that there will be a thick stack of pages there to greet him like an old friend.

 

Somehow he knows that his Santa, whoever he or she may be, takes extra time to make sure that every little thing Stiles says is addressed.

 

And he says a lot, frankly.

 

It’s awesome and more than a little heartwarming if he’s honest.

 

Part of him wants to investigate, wants to tear everything down to find his Santa. But he’s also afraid. Not in the insecure way, though those are there too, that doesn’t stop him. He’s terrified that if he makes this real, that if he looks too closely, it will disappear. That if he pushes too far, moves too quickly, blinks... _whatever_ they’ve been building toward will just disintegrate before his eyes.

 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so excited about a piece of mail before,” his dad says, breaking him out of his thoughts.

 

Stiles instinctively pushes the envelope behind his back, his dad lifting one eyebrow as if to say, ‘ _Really, Stiles?’_

 

“You know I saw that, right? You’ve been standing there staring at it for a solid three minutes.”

 

His dad chuckles at him and Stiles knows he’s only teasing but he still feels himself flush all over. “Sorry, I-uh...this is gonna sound crazy and I get that but, I’ve been um..I’ve been writing Santa Claus.”

 

Stiles pauses, blows out a deep breath and tries again.

 

“I’m writing Santa Claus, we’re kinda pen pals or something...yeah that’s not getting any less weird,” he says, the words feeling oddly private but Stiles can always count on his dad to give it to him straight and maybe he needs the reality check, okay? He knows that it’s crazy, what he’s doing, but he won’t stop without proper motivation.

 

His dad chews his lip for a second but then huffs noncommittally and strolls toward the kitchen.

 

‘Wait, that’s it? I tell you I’m pen pals with freakin’ Santa Claus and you’ve got nothing to say to that?” Stiles asks, following after his dad with his hands raised over his head.

 

The sheriff shrugs, “You’ve had worse friends.”

 

Stiles gapes back at his dad for a second before the strings in his mind strike out to form an idea. He feels shocked by it, even though he knows that he probably should have realized it sooner.

 

“You know who they are, don’t you? You know who Santa is!” Stiles says, a little louder than he should. Thankfully, Lily is out shopping with Scott and Kira for baby stuff. She’s taken to being a cousin like a duck to water and he’s pretty sure she’s gonna put up a fight when she realizes they’re not coming back for Christmas, or y’know, a while.

 

His dad doesn’t say yes or no but that’s confirmation enough where Stiles is concerned.

 

“I know everything with Heather…” John swallows visibly, Stiles watches the bob in his throat, feeling a little weak in the knees. They don’t _do_ this. They don’t talk about Mom and they don’t talk about Heather.

 

“I know you’ve been through the ringer, kid. Losing your mom felt a whole lot like losing myself and I didn’t handle it all that well. But I need you to hear this, to really hear it Stiles. I’m so damn proud of you, son.” John pulls him into a hug, one of the tight squeezing ones where they just stand there and breathe one another in. He hasn’t had one like it since just before he left for New York four years ago.

 

“Not just for dealing with everything the way you have, but taking care of Lily, working your ass off to make sure she has everything she needs and hiding it all so that never sees the struggle you go through.”

 

Stiles can feel the sting of tears welling up in the corner of his eyes but he fights them off as best he can. “You’ve done good, kid.”

 

The sheriff pulls away and Stiles slumps down into the nearest chair.

 

“Thanks, pops.” He’s a bit overwhelmed for a couple minutes but it’s not enough to keep him from peppering questions at his dad.

 

‘So who is it, Santa? It’s a guy right? Cause I get this...this feeling that it’s a guy even though they haven’t ever actually said that or even hinted at it. I don’t think he’s doing it intentionally, just more of a, never comes up kinda thing...”

 

“Stiles, take a breath,” his dad says with a laugh. “I’m not stupid okay, I see that the letters are...helping. I’m not gonna do or say anything that might put that in jeopardy.”

 

“Just,” Stiles sighs, deflating a little as he does. “Just tell me something; they’re not like a supermodel, or married or anything are they? Cause at this point I think rejection is a lot more probable than me coming to my senses and stopping this myself, and I think maybe, if I get rejected by fucking Santa Claus, it might just break me dad.”

 

“I’m not sayin’ a word, son.” He pats Stiles shoulder and drops a kiss to his head. It feels a little like he’s a kid again and part of him is indignant about it but more of him just enjoys his dad doting on him a little. It’s been too long since he’s had that. “But I’ll always look out for you kiddo, _always_. That doesn’t stop just because you grow up, move away, never call….”

 

“I call you literally every day, dad.”

 

The sheriff just smiles and shrugs, “The teasing doesn’t stop either,” he says unapologetically, as he turns to leave the room.

 

“But it’s a guy though, right? Dad, Hey dad, it’s like a manly guy, right? I’m right aren’t I?” Stiles says, chasing him back through the house until his dad starts upstairs, probably exhausted from his shift. But he smiles when he hears his dad’s laugh from the second floor.

 

_He’s pretty sure it’s a guy._

 

Stiles means to reply to the letter, but when he’s about halfway through the first page, Scott and Lily call screaming their heads off because apparently, if he’s understood them right, Kira’s going into labor.

 

Thankfully Melissa is there with them so Stiles himself isn’t freaking out,  but there’s a lot of swearing until he wakes the sheriff back up.

 

They gather supplies from both Melissa’s and Scott’s house before finally making their way to the hospital. It takes all the day and most of the night before there’s any real movement but Stiles sits anxiously between his dad and Lily the whole time.

 

Other people wander in throughout the day, bringing gifts and cards. Mayor Hale brings them all food and coffee, well cocoa for Lily, which immediately makes her his favorite of the visitors.

 

Lydia stops in too, not for long but they make dinner plans for the night before he leaves and he tries not to think about it too much, knowing it will make him anxious. She always knows how to bring everything out of him and Stiles very much wants to keep it all tucked away neatly, he’s pretty sure it’s the only way he’s survived so long.

 

The next two days pass unbelievably quickly and before he knows it, Stiles is double checking that he and Lily aren’t leaving anything important behind and rushing toward the airport. It isn’t until he’s on the plane that he realizes he never finished the letter.

 

His heart falls.

 

He guesses he could probably mail it to his dad and then have his dad drop it in the box at the station but...no, it’s back to real life now. There’s no time for fairytale romances or fantasy heroes.  

 

Besides, without his social circle around him, Lily is going to need his undivided attention.

 

It’s probably for the best, he’s always been more of a realist anyway. Though it doesn’t settle that uneasy feeling in his chest.

* * *

 

 

Derek checked the red mailbox a couple different times the first day, then again the second and the third. Now it’s the fourth day and there still isn’t any response from _Lily’s Dad_. He doesn’t like what it’s doing to him, he feels like a big ball of anxiety at this point and he’s starting to question if his sanity has remained intact.

 

He frowns down at the red mailbox as if it’s offending him personally when he hears someone clearing their throat. He looks up and is surprised to see the sheriff looking back at him with something like fondness overwhelming his scent.

 

“I don’t know how much it costs to replace one of those things, but I’m thinkin’ we put the revenge plot on hold and you can have a seat in my office so we can chat instead. Work for you?”

 

“Sure,” Derek nods and follows, though he doesn’t know why. Every instinct he has is telling him to make a run for it, to hide himself away in the loft again. The last thing he wants to do is be rejected by someone’s dad, _Lily’s Grandpa,_ for crying out loud.

 

“So the way I understand it, you and Stiles have been writing back and forth?” The sheriff asks, and Derek feels his eyebrows crinkle.

 

“What’s a Stiles?”

 

“My son, Derek.”

 

‘Oh, then uh, yes sir...I’m sorry, I should have said something sooner but…” the words get trapped in his throat and Derek can’t think of a way to express himself that doesn’t sound fucking ridiculous.

 

“Hale, it’s fine. I’m actually, I mean I’ve been meaning to thank you, son. Stiles...he’s had a rough go of it these last few years and he’s isolated himself in New York. I worry about him, but while he was here he was...different, better. And I think that’s because of those letters you two have been sending back and forth.”

 

Derek feels a strong heat snaking up his neck and he hopes that the Sheriff doesn’t see him blushing like an idiot. “Oh, well. It was mostly him.”

 

‘You’re not much on compliments are you?” the sheriff says, chuckling.

 

“Look, son. He’s opened up to you, he’s told you stuff that I’m pretty sure he hasn’t said to anyone else and I’m thinkin’ maybe you’ve done the same. That about sum it up?’

 

Derek nods and stays silent, unsure of what to say.

 

The sheriff rubs his hands over his face and sighs, “Hell, maybe it’s my fault but Stiles has learned to expect disappointment. I don’t know if it’s because he spent too much time here when he was younger, or if the kid just takes after me more than I’d hoped.”

 

“But the thing with Stiles is, he’s smart. I’m talkin _really_ smart and he’s good at analyzing things, and calculating possible outcomes,” John shakes his head and waits until Derek meets his eyes to continue.“I know that he’d take a bullet for me, for anyone he loves in a heartbeat...but when it comes to matters of the heart, he’s not so good with taking risks. You see what I mean?”  

 

“I think so, but I’m not sure what you’re asking me to do about it, sir.”

 

“Word on the grapevine says Mrs. Reyes has been trying to get you to do a book tour. Maybe you could start in New York City...if that’s something you’d be interested in of course,” the sheriff grins and Derek’s insides start to tingle with anticipation.

 

“NYC is a big place, sir…” he says, feeling a little overwhelmed. “What if I can’t find him?”

 

The sheriff narrows his eyes and frowns at him. “I’m pretty sure you could _sniff_ him out. Besides, meddling for his own good is one thing but, I am not handing you my son on a silver platter Hale.”

 

“Yes, Sir. Of course not Sir.”

 

“Just get out of here and if you can, bring my boy home for Christmas.”

 

“I’ll do my best, Sir.”

* * *

 

 

Whenever her dad has a big meeting or has to focus on his work, Lily stays with Mrs. Johnson. She’s a nice woman but she wears this fancy perfume that makes her nose itch and she keeps hitting on her dad which is obviously not working, but that doesn’t seem to stop her from trying. Sometimes Lily thinks it’s a good thing her dad doesn’t really pay attention to those sort of things because she does _not_ want Mrs. Johnson to be her new mom.

 

Lily stops by the little bookstore on her way home from Mrs. Johnsons. The couple who own it always gush about her to her dad so she thinks they don’t mind her coming by sometimes. This time before she can make it inside she sees a familiar face on the poster inside the display window.

 

Her eyes go wide and she rushes through the door.

 

“Is he really coming here? Is D.HALE COMING HERE?!!!” Lily squeals excitedly, dropping her bag by the counter.

 

“I thought you might take an interest in that,” Mrs. Jody says, grinning back at her.

 

“You havvveee to let me come! I promise I’ll be good and I won’t ask any stupid little kid questions!”

 

“Of course you wouldn’t. Stupid little kid questions are for stupid little kids. You’re what? Thrity now?”

 

“Mrs. Jody, I’m serious!!” Lily says, “I’ll be on my best behavior! Pleeaase.”

 

“Well that would be up to your dad, kiddo but I don’t mind keeping an eye on you for him if he doesn’t feel like standing in line all day after the reading.”

 

“The reading? He’s going to read The Christmas Bow?” She asks, feeling more eager than ever but Mrs. Jody just shakes her head, frowning slightly.

 

“No Derek told me he’s going to read something new. You guys will be the very first ones to hear it, ain’t that somethin’?”

 

“Yeah, it really is.”

 

“I mean I figured he’d start a little closer to home, but if the man wants to pay for his own flight from California to New York to read part of an unpublished manuscript to a bunch of my customers, I’m not gonna stop him.”

 

“Wait he’s from California?” Lily asks, her face scrunching up a little. They’d just left California! Maybe she could have found him if she’d known that’s where he was. She was really good at figuring things out.

 

“Yep, should be here the day after tomorrow. If you’re gonna hang out all day waiting for him, which we know you will be, tell your dad to give me a call. I’m gonna see if I can talk him into making some food for me so I don’t have to have the thing...well catered,” she says, her smile widening as she grins.

 

“Will do, see you Thursday Mrs. Jody!” Lily says, plucking her bag over her shoulder and running back out onto the street. If she takes too long getting home her dad will worry about her.

 

“Dad! You’ll never believe who’s- Dad?” Lily calls out, surprised to not find him in the living room where he usually waits on her.

 

“Hey kiddo,” he says from the kitchen.

 

Lily shrugs and just moves on through the apartment. When she gets in there with him, his back is turned and his shoulders are stiff looking. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Oh nothing just found a spider over by the table a few minutes ago. You know how dramatic I get when insects are involved,’ he says, his voice still cracked and shaky.

 

He won’t turn around and look at her so Lily gets closer and she can see the red splotches on his cheeks and the glassy red rim of his eyes and she knows he’s been crying. Her dad doesn’t _cry_ over spiders.

 

“No you didn’t. You’re- you’re lying to me. I thought we told each other _everything_. I thought we were a team!” Lily says, her vision blurring as the tears well up in her eyes. “Take it back, take it back right now!’

 

“I’m sorry, Lilypad, I’m so sorry…” he says, sinking to his knees and wrapping his arms around her.

 

“W-what happened, why are you sad? Why did you lie to me?”

 

“I was going to tell you… I just needed some time. I mean it Lil, no more lies I was going to tell you but... I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me.” He says, still hugging her tight against his chest. ‘I’ve always try so hard to make you proud but I’ve let us both down big time kiddo.”

 

“Tell me, tell me what you did.”

 

He swallows and lets out a shaky breath over her shoulder before he backs away a little to sit in the floor in front of the counter. “I lost my job, Lil...I got fired today.”

 

“Oh,” she says, biting her lip. “Well you can get another one, can’t you? I bet lots of places would like to hire you.”

 

Her dad laughs, but it’s not a happy laugh. He kisses her forehead and sighs, “Oh I wish it were that easy, Lilypad.”

 

“I don’t understand…”

 

“I know, sweetheart. But the job I had, they let me do a lot of things that other jobs wouldn’t. Like I got to be here most of the time so I could keep an eye on you and I wouldn’t have to pay for someone to hang out with you while I did my work… “ he says, then goes quiet for a minute before he gives her a big smile, a genuine one. “But don’t worry, I’ll figure it out.”

 

 _“We’ll figure it out,”_ she says insistently, nuzzling closer to her dad.

 

“That’s right, we’re a team. I’m sorry I lied to you Lilypad, do you forgive me?”

 

She shrugs, “Maybe this time but don’t do it again.”

 

“Sometimes you’re just like your mother.”

 

_The, “I didn’t deserve her either,” went unsaid._

* * *

 

 

Derek steps out of the cab and onto the street beside his hotel, reaching behind him to hold the door open for Erica. There’s a light blanket of snow on the ground and he smiles quietly to himself, thinking of how it’s been at least five years since he’s actually seen snow. He hears Erica grumbling, mostly to herself, as she climbs out after him, which only makes his smile grow.

 

“Why do you hate me, Derek? Huh? I could have booked you _Hawaii_ or something, but noooo you’ve gotta make me freeze my balls off.”

 

Derek huffs, “You don’t have balls.”

 

“You don’t know that!”

 

Derek tilts his head and raises a brow at her.

 

“Fine, my tits then!” she says. He can tell she’s only partially serious but she’s also talking loudly enough to draw attention. “But admit it, I have bigger balls than any man you know, except maybe Peter but he uses his for evil so that doesn’t count.”

 

“Yeah, Erica. You’re the Alpha male...can we get checked in now?”

 

“God yes, get me out of this frozen wasteland.”

 

They haven’t been in the city long but already he feels lighter, almost _cheerful_. Derek chuckles aloud for the first time in a long while and shakes his head. He was originally worried that he’d come off as some crazy stalker but he hopes with the sheriff’s blessing he’ll be okay.

 

After Erica signs for their room they get settled in and order room service together as she forces him to watch cliche’ and sappy Hallmark movies. Okay, so maybe she doesn’t hold his head still toward the TV but she does commandeer the remote and that’s pretty much the same thing.

 

There’s one about a dog and Derek tears up a bit, but before Erica can smell the salt on his skin and tease him mercilessly, he pops off the bed and grabs his jacket. “I’m gonna go for a walk.”

 

“Okay, don’t get mugged or arrested.”

 

“Jesus,” he groans under his breath as he steps outside their shared room.

 

The city is gorgeous, he can see the draw for Stiles. It’s not exactly pleasant for his overly sensitive nose, but he can overlook the smell and see the beauty in it. Not in the skyscrapers, though they have their own appeal, but in the small shops around the corner from the hotel. There’s a pizza place that smells divine. Derek almost considers stopping, but his curiosity peaked so he keeps moving. He’s walking for ages, his nose probably red from the cold when he realizes he’s gotten into some kind of suburb of the city. The skyscrapers turned into small shops and before he knows it, his nose draws him into a little cafe.

 

Derek pushes through the door and immediately the heat welcomes him.

 

He orders a large hot cocoa and a slice of olive oil cake. He doubts it’s as good as his grandmothers but he’s not had any version of it in a long time. The only person he knows that beyond simply competent in the kitchen is Isaac and he usually sticks to cooking with the occasional pan of brownies thrown in.

 

Derek himself isn’t an awful cook but he didn’t have much luck with baking the few times he tried. So he ends up buying most of his sweets from the grocery store and they usually taste like pre-packaged chemicals.

 

It’s not the first time he’s thought that Beacon Hills is in bad need of a bakery.

 

Derek inhales the scents of the little cafe, already feeling thawed from the icy chill outside. The holiday spices mixed with the sweet scent of sugar and baked treats have him biting back a moan, as the waiter gently slides his saucer and mug onto the table.

 

“Thank you. It smells amazing,” he says, offering the guy a small smile.  

 

In response, the attractive waiter’s mouth turns  up into a cocky grin, the flavor of his pride enveloping Derek’s senses.

 

“It tastes even better,” he says, winking as he walks away.

 

He sits there, staring after the guy for what feels like forever. His whole body on edge in a way it hasn’t been in a long time. The pastry is just as good as the guy promised. The slight lemon tang to the light and fluffy cake has his eyes closing in pleasure. A low moan escapes him before he can stop it and Derek feels heat snaking up the back of his neck.

 

Once he’s finished, he considers trying to talk to the guy again, to thank him for the treat but he didn’t come here to find a cute guy at a cafe. So instead, he leaves a generous tip and heads outside. He wants something more than a fleeting attraction and Stiles is close, he can feel it. He really hopes he’ll have the time to look for him tomorrow after the reading.

* * *

 

 

“Don’t go,’ Derek says, wincing as he hears the desperation in his own voice. He feels even more stupidly like a kid when he looks down to see that he’s latched on to the hem of Erica’s sleeve.

 

“Nice try, but I am _not_ sitting here listening to you read your lame book to a bunch of brats when I could be shopping in _New York City_ , Derek.”

 

He knows she’s teasing him, that she’s trying to get him to lighten up but he growls back at her instead. She drops her cheesy grin and starts to look like an actual human being again before turning her big sad brown eyes on him. He’s always had a weakness for them and she knows it.

 

“Der, it will be fine. You don't _know_ that he’ll even _be_ here.”

 

“Not helping,” he grits out, trying to calm his foolishly rapid heart.

 

Erica turns her eyes up at him, looking into his  for a significant amount of time before her whole face softens. “Derek, I’m worried about you. I’ve never seen you get this wound up over anyone and you’ve not even introduced yourself yet.”

 

Derek knows she has a point. He knew he was in too deep before the second letter from Stiles, if he’s being honest with himself, but he still kept writing. He’s written more since he received that wish from Lily than he has in years, both through correspondence with Stiles and what he’s done privately.

 

“Take it slow and easy, it will be fine.” She grabs at his chin and goes on her tiptoes to kiss at his cheek before wiping off the lipstick print with her thumb. “And remember, just because you show up here, it doesn’t mean he owes you _anything_. He could think you’re a total creep for flying three thousand miles to see someone who sent you a handful of letters.”

 

“Ericaaa” Derek growls, feeling the vibration of it in his throat.

 

“Just keepin’ you honest, DerBear.”

 

‘I hate you.”

 

“No you don’t, you love me.’

 

“No I don’t, I’m changing the locks when I get home.”

 

“Oh please, like that would stop me…” She looks up at him with one of those trademark _Erica_ smiles and Derek melts, just like he always does.

 

“I’ll see you back at the hotel,” he says, pulling her into a hug and squeezing tightly around her. He breathes in the familiar scent of Erica and pack and lets out a deep exhale.

 

_Here goes nothing._

 

Derek smiles and changes his voice as much as he can while reading through the thin hardcover sample. Erica had it printed up just for this tour that he hopes is over sooner rather than later. It’s not quite a collection of fairy tales but it’s similar. Most of the chapters he’s actually managed to write have a moral to the story, a hero and a villain, etc. He already has another seven or eight ideas plaguing him as potential shorts to go in as well.

 

When he’s done reading, Derek asks the kids in front of him whether or not they liked it. Thankfully, the reviews were welcomed screams of yes and a variety of other, some extremely creative, responses. He isn’t sure he could handle rejection of any kind at this point. He’s already too pent up about what he’s gonna do to find Stiles.

 

How in the world is he supposed to find one person in a city of millions.

 

“Mr. Hale! Mr. Hale! Would you mind answering some questions?”

 

Derek looks down, surprised to find an adorable little girl beaming up at him. She has beautiful whiskey brown eyes and they’re doing everything they can to melt his heart.

 

“I don’t-” he starts, his chest clinching painfully as he realizes how disappointed she’s going to be when he turns her down.

 

“We could go to the cafe where my dad works, it’s just down the street! Don’t worry, I’m not _actually_ a journalist yet but Lydia says if you want something you have to start working on it early, and Lydia knows _everything_.”

 

“I know a Lydia like that, seems you’ve got the right idea...Sorry, I didn’t catch your name, Miss…?”

 

“Lily.”

 

“Lily,” Derek whispers back, like it’s a prayer. He swallows hard, forcing himself to believe it’s just a coincidence. There’s probably a ton of girls named Lily, he tries and fails to sniff out any familiar scents but the bookstore is packed full of people and Derek can barely smell himself.

 

Realizing that even if this Lily isn’t the one he’s looking for, he can spare a few minutes to make the kid smile.  “Hmm...I could be convinced.”

 

‘YES! C’mon we can go get some hot cocoa and stuff.”

 

He doesn’t realize how wrapped up in things like _fate_ and _destiny_ he might have gotten until Lily mentions the cafe. Immediately Derek deflates, he knows that Stiles is a graphic designer, he doesn’t work at a cafe. He fights off the urge to back out of it. He knows if he does, it’s only because he wants to go back to his hotel and sulk. Instead, he swallows down the disappointment and smiles at her.

 

“That sounds nice.”

* * *

 

 

Stiles is nearly finished with his shift when he watches Lily come through the door with a strange man on her arm. Granted, he’s probably the most attractive man Stiles has ever seen up close, but still not okay. There’s something familiar about him, beyond the fact that he knows it’s the guy from last night. Stiles chews on his lip, but he can’t seem to put a name to the pinging in his mind.

 

“Lil, what are you doing? Where’s Jody and Donna?”

 

“I wanted to bring Mr. Hale here for hot cocoa,” Lily says, looking up at him like _he’s_ the one being ridiculous.

 

“Lil, I told you not to bother Mr. Hale.”

 

“Derek.”

 

“Uh, yeah, uh Derek. I told you not to bother Derek.”

 

“I’m not bothering him, I’m interviewing him Dad!”

 

“Oh that’s so much different than what I said,” Stiles says back, shaking his head at her as he kisses at her temple.

 

“I’ll be back with your hot chocolate and behave, yeah? Don’t do that stuff where you, y’know badger people about their personal lives until they have to enter witsec.”

 

“It’s called Detective Journalism for a reason, Dad!”

 

‘First, it’s Investigative Journalism. Secondly, not everyone is as madly in love with you as I am. He doesn’t have to deal with your crap. So how bout we take it easy on the guy, okay?” Stiles asks, feeling a fondness for his daughter that’s just one of those inexplicable things. Like the way his heart ramps up when _Derek_ turns those big green and gold eyes on him.

 

He looks like he’s about to say something but Lily’s voice snaps Stiles’ attention back onto her.

 

“Okay.” She answers with an feigned innocent shrug and Stiles sees so much of himself in her that it’s almost painful. Just as well as he knows the little imp is waiting for him to get out of earshot so she can harass their guest.

 

Eh well, if the guy can’t hack a seven year old, he’s never gonna make it in the city.

 

Stiles doesn’t even bother muffling his laugh when she’s beaming questions at the poor guy before he even makes it back to the counter.

 

He slides two cups of hot cocoa on the table, along with a sliver of olive oil cake for Derek and a blueberry muffin for Lily. The guy is being a good sport about the questions so Stiles figures he deserves a free meal. He digs into his own wallet to pay for it, they’re not struggling, not yet at least. He made decent money at his old job, but the city is expensive and his savings will run out sooner rather than later.

 

He needs to figure something out or he’s going to be forced to go home.

 

_Home_

 

Even after all the time he’s spent away, running from it, Beacon Hills is still his home and he feels it in the deepest parts of himself. But he also knows how much pain is held there for him and he can’t stomach the thoughts of going, much less returning a failure.

 

He’s supposed to make it on his own, especially after that big “I’m proud of you kid,” talk from his dad. Stiles isn’t stupid, he knows he’d be welcomed with open arms if he trudged back home with his metaphorical tail between his legs. But he also knows that deep inside the darker spaces of his dad’s mind would be a click of something old but familiar; disappointment.

 

No, he’s gotta get his shit together. Going home is a last resort.

* * *

 

 

Derek finds himself chuckling at Lily, _a lot_. She reminds him a little too much of the women in his life. She throws question after question about his writing at him until he’s genuinely impressed. Somehow this little girl is knocking him on his ass and he doesn’t even mind.

 

“How hard was it to get published?’

 

“Well after the first book, pretty easy.”

 

“What about that first one?”

 

“Incredibly hard.”

 

“So how did you do it?”

 

“Well I had someone who believed in me..” Derek tapers off, not wanting to bring up how horribly wrong that went.

 

“No, I don’t drink the My Little Pony koolaid, you know? How’d you _really_ do it?”

 

Derek chuckles, once again in awe of her.  “Okay, well… knew that my story was really good and so I made it my job to convince everyone else it was good too. Then, someone took a chance on me. That’s all it took, one other person who believed in it as much as I did.”

 

“Hmm...Lydia says I have a face for tv, whatever that means. I think I’d like writing a book, but I’d rather be where the action is. Are you married?”

 

Derek chokes on his cocoa in surprise. There’s no segway she just blurts it out and part of him is envious of her courage but a bigger part of him aches with the thoughts of someone he should have never trusted and of someone he might never get the chance to love.

 

Derek narrows his eyes at her and smiles, teasingly summing up her new topic of interest. “No, I’m not...what does this have to do with my writing exactly?’

 

“Hey I just go where the story takes me...Do you like boys?”

 

Before he can answer, not that he’s sure he could, Lily’s dad clamps a hand over her mouth.

 

“Annddd on behalf of Mr..of Derek, I’m going to say this interview is over.”

 

Derek watches as the attractive waiter tugs on his daughter’s hand until they’re mostly out of earshot. Well _normal_ earshot.

 

“Lil, you know better than to pry into people's’ personal lives…”

 

“But dad, he’s handsome and nice and he laughs at all my jokes!”

 

“He’s also about twenty years too old for you, sweetheart” her dad says with a chuckle that makes Derek’s ears turn pink. He should really stop eavesdropping, he knows his mother would scold him for this, but thankfully she won’t know.

 

“Not for _me!_ Gross. For you!”

 

That does not help the curl of butterflies twisting in his gut. Lily’s father is beautiful in a way that only few guys can be. To Derek’s surprise, he finds he’s actually flattered by her efforts. Still, he’s really hoping his wolf, his senses, his _something_ can lead him to Stiles.

 

It doesn’t feel the same in the city, he’s not sure if it’s the crowds, if it’s the overwhelming scents and sounds of those crowds, or if he’s just too far away from home but he doesn’t feel as in tune with his wolf as he normally is. He can’t help but think maybe that’s going to make this finding Stiles with only his senses to guide him thing is going to be a lot harder than either he or the sheriff might have thought.

 

“Annnd he’s from California! Dad we could go back home-”

 

“Oh Lilypad,’ the guy says, making Derek’s head snap in their direction.

 

His mind is running overtime but before he even knows what he’s doing he’s crossed the room and is standing inches in front of the beautiful brown eyed guy whos looking up at him in confusion.

 

“Are you...I know this might sound strange but are you Stiles?”

 

The guy is on guard now, there’s a familiar way about the shape his face takes though. Derek has seen the same expression on the sheriff enough times to recognize it.

 

“You are, you’re really him,” Derek mutters to himself.

 

“I um, I’m...I’m Derek _Hale_...from Beacon Hills.”

 

“Oh, okay…” Stiles says, staring back at him silently for a few beats before starting up again. “And what exactly are you doing in NYC?”

 

“I wanted to...I mean, I didn’t know it was you. At least not when I came in here, not til just now…”

 

“Lily, go upstairs…”

 

“But dad my inter-”

 

“Lil, now.”

 

“Ugh, fine. Bye Derek!”

 

“Bye Lily,” he says, feeling his chest start to ache a little. Part of him wonders if this goodbye is going to be permanent. It’s clear that whatever is happening, Stiles isn’t pleased.

 

“You, in the back…” Stiles says, ushering him through a small access door behind the counter as he mumbles something about a fifteen minute break to the redhead standing behind it. She mutters something under her breath that makes Derek’s cheeks feel hot, but he ignores it.

 

“Why are you here, Derek? Did my father send you? Is he checking up on me or something? Surely the mayor’s _son_ has better things to do with his time.”

 

“No it isn’t like that…” Derek says, swallowing hard around the acidic taste of the confession he knows is coming. This is it, he has to lay everything out on the table. He doesn’t like being vulnerable but for Stiles, maybe it’s worth it.

 

“I’m Santa Claus,” he says, his voice so gravely that he has to wince at how it sounds, even to his own ears.

 

“You’re-”

 

Derek wants to look away, doesn’t want to see the disappointment, the anger, the hurt, whatever it is Stiles is getting ready to broadcast on his face. He’s only seen him a few times, not trying to pay too much attention, but even then Derek knows how expressive his features can be and he’s terrified of what he’s going to find there.

 

“You’re Santa Claus,” Stiles breathes out, the words partially echoing in the room.

 

It takes a few beats, there’s only a bit of stale air between them. Stiles is standing _so close_ and there’s nothing Derek wants more than to close the distance but he’s had time to process this, Stiles hasn’t and he doesn’t want to push the boundaries. Erica was right, Stiles doesn’t owe him anything.

 

“So my dad _didn’t_ send you?”

 

“Well…” Derek starts, and Stiles’ face falls.

 

“Wait no, I’m screwing this up. No please, listen to me. I _wanted_ to come here. I wanted to meet you, to tell you how...how special your letters were to me. Okay, hold on let me go back and I’ll try to explain what happened.”

 

Then, Derek launches into the story of how he ended up three thousand miles away from home.

 

He kicks it off by going back to when his father died and how he took over writing the letters. How much comfort it gives him, how it feels like a connection he can still share with his dad. Then he skips ahead to when the sheriff found him glaring at the Santa Inc. Mailbox and set him straight. Making sure to tell Stiles that it was really a coincidence that he came into the cafe the other night. Stressing how very vague John was in his advice.

 

When he’s finished, Derek feels like he’s talked more in the last five minutes than he has in a decade but Stiles seems more relaxed now and that’s the only thing that matters to him. He just needs to make sure he’s not done or said anything that made the discomfort of him just showing up, any worse.

 

“So he really didn’t tell you how to find me?”

 

“No, actually...I mean, this isn’t where I expected to find you?” Derek says, then finds himself wincing again at how rude it might have sounded. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just, I know you’re a graphic designer…”

 

“Well I was. But unfortunately the company I worked for was merged with some uptown firm where the assholes in charge wanted all the accounts and none of the employees. So, Charlie was nice enough to give me a job here until I find something better...”

 

“It’s a nice place, I-I know what I said came out wrong, but I really do like it here. It feels warm and comfortable even with all the people.”

 

“Well thanks for that but if I can’t find something that pays better, I’ll be packing up and heading out west pretty soon,” Stiles says, his mouth turning down in a grimace.

 

“Is there any particular reason you don’t want to come back to Beacon Hills? Well, other than the obvious I mean.”

 

“It’s just- I’ve been on my own for awhile now and I thought that had meant I was doing okay. That I made something of myself, I made a life for me and Lil without anyone’s help. It wasn’t easy and I had to work my ass off to do it...but,” Stiles trails off, a sad look on his face and strong surge of longing in his scent.

 

“Well, I can’t tell you how to feel about this, Stiles...but if it helps at all, I don’t think this is as significant as it might seem right now. Standing on your own, taking care of Lily, that’s not something that happens overnight _or_ during a few rough weeks, months, or even years of struggling to make ends meet.”

 

He leans against the shelf genty, making sure not to knock anything over as he continues. “When Lily is sixteen or eighteen, or even thirty and she looks back on her life. She’s not going to remember the time you were laid off, or if you have to, the time you moved back in with your dad to save money. The struggle is in the details, but her viewpoint is the wide landscape.” Derek gave him a small, shy smile.

 

“Wow,” Stiles breathes out, making a line of heat snake up Derek’s neck.

 

“I know that this is probably weird, that me being here is probably too much but I’d really love it if you let me take you to dinner…”

 

“I’m not starving, Derek..”

 

Despite himself, Derek laughs, a short, loud sort of sound that vibrates from his throat. “I know that Stiles, I literally just watched you pay for my food.”

 

“Well…”

 

“C’mon, let me take you out...we can just spend time together.”

 

“Oh that sounds like so much fun, we could see how awkward the deeply personal, private information we shared makes the whole experience.”

 

“Exactly,” Derek answers, feeling lighter. His grin widens and he thinks he’s really got a chance now that Stiles is joking with him.

 

“I don’t know, I’ll have to find a sitter for Lily but-”

 

“Well it’s up to you, but I wouldn’t mind if she wanted to tag along” Derek says, shrugging nonchalantly. “She’s a pretty neat kid.”

 

“That she is,” Stiles says, though his whole face is distorted into this awe like state that has Derek’s heart beating even more loudly against his ears.

 

“It’s your city so you might have to help in the planning but I’m not gonna lie, I’ll go along with pretty much whatever you want,” he says chuckling, ‘I really want you to say yes, to take this chance on me.”

 

“No takebacksies!” Stiles yells, pushing playfully at Derek’s shoulder.

 

“You’re ridiculous,” he says, because it truly is by far the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. Yet still, Derek can feel himself falling even more in love with him.

 

“Maybe, but you’re stuck with me now.”

 

“No complaints.”

 

They stare at each other, the space between them feeling even smaller than it was just moments ago. Derek leans closer and Stiles looks up at him with those big brown eyes, dancing with light and humor. He’s just about to push in further when a voice echoes through the space.

 

_“You guys better not be naked, I’m coming in!”_

 

Derek backs away painfully fast, terrified that he’ll get Stiles in trouble, or worse yet, that the flustered, embarrassed feeling will be broadcasted across the room.

 

“I’m gonna- uh..I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”

 

“Where are you staying?”

 

“The uh, the Knickerbocker. I’m pretty sure Erica just booked it because she likes saying Knickerbocker.”

 

“Erica?” Stiles asks, lifting a brow.

 

“My Agent, well she’s also one of my best friends but she’s _here_ because she’s my agent.”

 

“Okay, I’ll pick you up outside the hotel around six? Is that too early? It’s just Lily has to be in bed by 10…”

 

“It’s fine, Stiles. Whatever, whenever you want is fine with me,” he says, smiling to himself as he turns to leave.

 

He’s almost to the door when he hears something he probably shouldn’t be able to hear and nearly walks into the edge of a table.

 

“Santa’s got a nice ass.”

 

He still feels the warmth of it long after he’s stepped back out into the chilled New York air.

* * *

 

 

Epilogue

 

“My arms hurrrrrttt,” Stiles whines, plopping down into his beloved bean bag. It’s the only piece of furniture left that hasn’t been sold or packed into the truck. Derek threatens to burn it when he’s not looking, but Stiles knows he won’t.

 

‘Yeah, I think that’s what...your _third_ box?” Derek says with a chuckle.

 

‘It was _books_ Derek!”

 

Stiles doesn’t have long to be indignant because Derek glances back over his shoulder and cocks a brow. “Wanna try that again?”

 

“Ugh you and your stupid wolfy lie detector. They were actually books for the record, just y’know, cookbooks...or cooking pamphlets, but still... _very_ heavy when there’s so many of them…”

 

“Yeah, sure.”

 

“They are! I don't know why I’m packing anything anyway, weak human vs big strong manly werewolf...I’m pretty sure we’d both be better off if you just pick up the slack _silently._ ” That earns him a glare but Stiles can’t be bothered by it because even when he’s glaring, Derek is still one of the most attractive people he’s ever seen.

 

“I’m not a packhorse, Stiles.”

 

“Well you’ve got the jackass thing downpat,” he says, mumbling his cleverness under his breath.

 

He doesn’t have time to dodge before the pillow him hits him in the face with a soft smack.

 

“I can hear you asshat!” Derek calls back over his shoulder as he packs another two boxes down to the truck.

 

Stiles knows he should really be grateful for the help but the summer heat is barely sustainable with the AC on and the door closed. With the unit out in his soon-to-be vacated apartment and the door wide open to the blasts of hot air that sweep in from the street, what little stamina he might have had drained out before they even started.

 

Derek makes his way back inside, glances over at Stiles limp body and shakes his head.

 

“Why did I let you talk me into this?” It’s going to take _forever_ to get back to California. You’re going to have to be crammed into a tiny metal box with me for over a week...I’m pretty sure we’ll be broken up or you’ll kill me before we get there and honestly, I think maybe the second one is preferable.”

 

“Don’t worry, I won’t kill you.” Derek says, leaning forward to pick up the roll of packing tape from the floor. “I will be keeping this up front though, in case of emergency.”

 

“You’re hilarious, how long did it take you to think think that one up?”

 

“After I met you? About two seconds.”

 

“I don’t even know why I love you.”

 

“Yes you do.”

 

Derek gradually makes his way closer, crouching and leaning into Stiles’ space until his brain starts to fizzle out.

 

“Okay, maybe a little, but not right now, not while you’re being a dick.”

 

“You love me more when I’m being a dick.”

 

“You got me there…”

 

He can feel a small smile on Derek’s lips when they touch against his own and Stiles starts to wonder how he ever managed to get so lucky. Just as he’s about to reach up to pull Derek closer, the pressure is gone.

 

Stiles dizzily glances up to find a familiar smirk directed back at him.

 

“Wouldn’t want you to overheat.”

 

He reaches for the pillow to wipe that smug look off Derek’s face but the asshole’s stupid supernatural reflexes are faster and he only gets halfway there before it’s snatched out of his reach.

 

‘I hate you,” Stiles says, but it’s muffled by Derek’s mouth on his again, just briefly.

 

Standing up, Derek turns back to him. “You sure about that?” he asks, his fingertips reaching for the hem of his shirt and tugging it up over his head.

 

Stiles doesn’t quite make it to his feet but he gets to the door in time to slam it shut before Derek walks outside.

 

“Are you _crazy!_ You can’t go out there shirtless!! We’ll never make it out of the city,” he says, climbing up to his feet and leaning dramatically back against the door.

 

Derek huffs out a laugh like he doesn’t believe him and Stiles is a little offended. He knows the neighborhood well enough to know that Derek being outside, shirtless, is a bad scenario for everyone involved. Especially given how awkward he gets about people watching him. Stiles eyes widen and he feels his mouth turn up into a smile as a delightfully mischievous idea begins forming in his mind.

 

“You’re right, Derek...of course, what was I thinking?” he says, moving to the side. “Here let me get that for you.”

 

Derek seems to hesitate, maybe reconsidering this decidedly stupid idea but he must shrug it off because he steps outside and Stiles has to bite back a laugh when he hears a pot shatter on the ground outside the door.

 

Mrs. Thomas, his upstairs neighbor, has made a habit of conveniently watering her plants anytime Derek is scheduled to show up. She’s got a good twenty years on both of them _and_ she’s happily married, so she’s the least of Derek’s problems.

 

He knows the stampede is about to start, Stiles understands exactly what kind of people he lives beside.  While Derek is far too oblivious about his own appearance, Stiles has no such misconception. Hell, even _he_ drew attention for a while...but eventually he unwittingly became some sort of mascot for their single parents social club. He doesn’t attend the meetings, but somehow he’s still been roped into the occasional gossip sessions.

 

Stiles is leaning back against the door with a smug look when he feels the knob start to jiggle. Then vibrations from of a series of small knocks travel up his spine until he hears Derek on the other side growling his name.

 

_“Stiles, open the door now.”_

 

“Sorry, what was that, Der? I couldn’t hear you...could you speak up?”

 

“Open the door right now or...or…”

 

Stiles takes pity on him, timing it out almost perfectly. He opens the door and pulls Derek back in just in time to see the frustrated disappointment on Lindsey (with an i)’s face.

 

Before closing the door, he shouts something he’s been dying to say to her. ‘Nobody spells Lindsey with an i, your mother was just illiterate. K bye!!”

 

Derek still has this panicked look on his face, but Stiles shrugs it off. “I never liked her anyway.”

 

“Now, what’s the lesson we’ve learned here, _Derek_?”

 

“Beacon Hills isn’t the only place with a cougar epidemic?”

 

Stiles laughs, despite himself. Derek doesn’t always show it but he’s probably one of the most funny people Stiles knows.  “Well I won’t say I told you so, 'cause it's not strong enough. How about, I'm always right, and you should listen to whatever I say, and never disagree _ever_ for the sake of your wolfly ass. K? Okay.”

 

Shaking his head, Stiles reaches out to pick up a box. “Let’s get the rest of this stuff loaded up and get out of here before Lindsey(with an i) comes back with an axe to chop down the door.”

 

Stiles makes a few more trips before the heat really does start to eat at him and Derek playfully shoves him down onto his bean bag and leaves him there. He watches with a fondness while the last of the boxes are carted outside by his amazing boyfriend.

 

He thinks about the new job that starts in two weeks, about how excited Lily is to start school in Beacon Hills again, and a little too much about the delicate silver band he found _accidentally_. Stiles knows they’re not ready, that Derek knows it too, but he’s not scared and that says a lot.

 

It says _everything_.

 


End file.
